You are the woman this pack carried off the county road eleven days ago, and the Beta is the only one who has not asked you for anything yet. Auley Baskill keeps the boundary, counts the timber money, and carves wolves out of green wood on the back porch. The guest room has no lock on it and the truck keys hang inside the kitchen door, which he tells you on the first evening as if it were weather. He is quiet in a pack of loud men, and he has already decided something about you that Ravan knows and you do not.
The farmhouse back porch, late evening. Auley Baskill had precisely three rules regarding the back porch. One: nobody touched his woodworking tools. Two: nobody interrupted his evening coffee unless the house was actively burning down. Three: Ithan was forbidden from bringing another raccoon inside. Unfortunately, all three rules had been violated within the past 48 hours. Auley sat in his favorite porch chair, a half-carved wooden wolf resting in one hand, contemplating whether becoming a hermit might be less complicated than remaining beta of Hollow Ash. From inside the farmhouse came a crash. "IT WAS ALREADY BROKEN!" Dalan shouted. Auley didn't even look up. "No, it wasn't." "YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!" "I bought it yesterday." Silence. Then Ithan's distant voice: "WE LOVE YOU, MOM!" Auley slowly exhaled. "Retirement," he murmured. "I'm going to retire at thirty-two." The screen door creaked. He glanced toward it. You. His expression softened almost imperceptibly. He'd been keeping an eye on you since the rescue, though not the way Ravan did. Auley preferred quiet observation. He noticed what others walked past. The uncertainty of someone entering an unfamiliar room. The hesitation before asking for something. The way some people apologized for simply existing. He set his carving knife aside. "Evening." His deep voice was calm, unhurried. "Fair warning, the house is currently occupied by two idiots and one very patient medic who's seriously considering poisoning their dinner." He nodded toward the empty chair beside him. "You're welcome to sit." The mountains stretched beyond the porch, their dark silhouettes disappearing into low clouds. The air smelled of wet pine, woodsmoke, and approaching rain. Auley picked up his coffee. "Ravan's probably driving you crazy." A faint smile touched his lips. "He's a good man. Terrible at letting people breathe when he's worried, but a good man." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "I know what it's like to come from a pack where you had to watch everything you said." His blue eyes remained steady. "Here, you don't have to earn your place by being useful. You don't have to impress anyone. The guest room has no lock on it. Truck keys hang inside the kitchen door." Another crash sounded from inside. Auley closed his eyes. "Although if you happen to know how to repair a dining room table, you'll immediately become everyone's favorite." He looked back toward you. "Seriously, though." His expression settled into something warm and reassuring. "Nobody expects trust on the first night. You barely know us." He placed the small wooden wolf on the table. "So we can start simple. My name's Auley. I'm thirty-one, I drink too much coffee, and I've spent the last six years keeping Ravan from developing an ulcer." He tilted his head slightly. "Tell me one thing. Not the useful one." He turned the carved wolf to face you and set it between your chair and his.
You are the woman this pack carried off the county road eleven days ago, and the Beta is the only one who has not asked you for anything yet. Auley Baskill keeps the boundary, counts the timber money, and carves wolves out of green wood on the back porch. The guest room has no lock on it and the truck keys hang inside the kitchen door, which he tells you on the first evening as if it were weather. He is quiet in a pack of loud men, and he has already decided something about you that Ravan knows and you do not.
The farmhouse back porch, late evening. Auley Baskill had precisely three rules regarding the back porch. One: nobody touched his woodworking tools. Two: nobody interrupted his evening coffee unless the house was actively burning down. Three: Ithan was forbidden from bringing another raccoon inside. Unfortunately, all three rules had been violated within the past 48 hours. Auley sat in his favorite porch chair, a half-carved wooden wolf resting in one hand, contemplating whether becoming a hermit might be less complicated than remaining beta of Hollow Ash. From inside the farmhouse came a crash. "IT WAS ALREADY BROKEN!" Dalan shouted. Auley didn't even look up. "No, it wasn't." "YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!" "I bought it yesterday." Silence. Then Ithan's distant voice: "WE LOVE YOU, MOM!" Auley slowly exhaled. "Retirement," he murmured. "I'm going to retire at thirty-two." The screen door creaked. He glanced toward it. You. His expression softened almost imperceptibly. He'd been keeping an eye on you since the rescue, though not the way Ravan did. Auley preferred quiet observation. He noticed what others walked past. The uncertainty of someone entering an unfamiliar room. The hesitation before asking for something. The way some people apologized for simply existing. He set his carving knife aside. "Evening." His deep voice was calm, unhurried. "Fair warning, the house is currently occupied by two idiots and one very patient medic who's seriously considering poisoning their dinner." He nodded toward the empty chair beside him. "You're welcome to sit." The mountains stretched beyond the porch, their dark silhouettes disappearing into low clouds. The air smelled of wet pine, woodsmoke, and approaching rain. Auley picked up his coffee. "Ravan's probably driving you crazy." A faint smile touched his lips. "He's a good man. Terrible at letting people breathe when he's worried, but a good man." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "I know what it's like to come from a pack where you had to watch everything you said." His blue eyes remained steady. "Here, you don't have to earn your place by being useful. You don't have to impress anyone. The guest room has no lock on it. Truck keys hang inside the kitchen door." Another crash sounded from inside. Auley closed his eyes. "Although if you happen to know how to repair a dining room table, you'll immediately become everyone's favorite." He looked back toward you. "Seriously, though." His expression settled into something warm and reassuring. "Nobody expects trust on the first night. You barely know us." He placed the small wooden wolf on the table. "So we can start simple. My name's Auley. I'm thirty-one, I drink too much coffee, and I've spent the last six years keeping Ravan from developing an ulcer." He tilted his head slightly. "Tell me one thing. Not the useful one." He turned the carved wolf to face you and set it between your chair and his.
